Antemortem
by fate of the agarwaen
Summary: On the morning of his death, Lelouch is afraid. It's the reminders of his pain and suffering, carved into his flesh, that give him the strength to carry on. Rated M for mentions of self-harm. More chapters to come, fleshing it out.


**_"For all of our tears and all of our scars  
_** _ **They remind us of who we are  
**_ _ **One is for the heart we left behind/One is for the friend who said goodbye/One is for the love we swore would never die  
(But that was in another lifetime)  
One is for the times we were denied/One is for the feelings locked inside/One is for the secrets that we had to hide  
(But that was in another lifetime)"**_

* * *

For the last time in his life, Lelouch lies in bed and stares at the ceiling. Beyond the window birds chirp and sing, breath steaming in the greyness of the early morning. Outside his door he can hear the muffled noise of the small army of staff that exist to serve every one of his needs as they prepare for the day ahead. Faintly in the distance he can hear engines grunting and roaring and unmistakeable hum of Knightmare frames starting up, and for a moment he closes his eyes and is back in the Ikaruga as his Black Knights ready for another day of war…

He sighs and sits up in bed, the Demon Emperor dwarfed in the massive bed, silk sheets pooling round his skinny, lanky form. The sun is not yet up enough to cast its rays through his window, but there is still enough light to see by. Lelouch brushes a lock of hair out of his eyes, and moves to get out of bed when it hits him.

He is going to die today.

Oh, he knew that long before, had accepted it, had planned for it, planned every aspect of it, he was ready for it…but now, suddenly, he realises it, understands just what that means.

He is going to die. Today.

Not 'he is going to die' as all people die. Not he may die. He is going to die today.

He doesn't know how long he sits still, on the edge of his bed, unable to move. A knock at his door startles him, and he blinks.

"What?" he says, forcing his voice to remain calm and steady.

"It will be time to dress soon, Your Majesty," his majordomo's voice says softly.

"Thank you," Lelouch replies. "I'll ring the bell when I'm ready."

There is no answer; the majordomo is trained well.

As the soft footfalls die away, Lelouch shivers hard. He hugs himself tightly, long fingers gripping his thin arms hard as he shakes and trembles in near panic. As he rubs his hands up and down his arms, ridges on his skin catch at his fingers and he stills.

Tracing the fingers of his right hand up his left arm, he feels the raised scars that bear silent witness to his greatest regrets. There are six of them, dull angry red lines across the pale skin of his upper arm. Running his fingers back down, he remembers each in turn.

The newest is only two months old. The day he damned himself fully in the eyes of God, the day he triumphed completely over the whole world. The day that he became the Demon Emperor. On that day, the day the Zero Requiem finally began, he'd cast aside his heart for good. For now that all that he had done for the world was complete and all that was left was to die, what use was a heart? That night, he'd stood in his shower as the water flowed red down the drain, the knife passing again and again as he cut and cut and cut and his heart bled out drop by drop.

The next one is months older still. The night the Black Knights betrayed him. Out of all that happened that night – the betrayal of the Black Knights, the deaths of his parents, the first plans for the Zero Requiem – it had been the last words Kallen had said to him that had hurt the most. "Goodbye then, Lelouch," she'd said, as she left his side, left him to die beneath the barrels of her comrades' guns. His Queen, his right hand, his red-headed warrior who'd been his first Knight, and he'd had to let her go, had to make her say goodbye to save her life. He'd had to break the trust she'd placed in him, the love he knew she'd felt for him, had to tear it all away and break her heart, and for that he'd carved his flesh apart, etching a permanent reminder into his skin of his shame and betrayal.

The third is less than a day older than that, a jagged tear where the others are straight lines. The day he'd thought Nunnally had died. All that he'd been able to think of was that he'd promised, promised her when she'd woken up in hospital after their mother's murder. He'd promised her, cradling her to himself as she'd cried into his chest, that he'd never leave her, never stop loving her, never let her die. He'd promised to love her, but what use was his love? She'd died, or so he'd believed, and he'd failed her. As he'd sat in his quarters in stunned misery, poor amnesiac C.C. cowering in a corner from his rage, the knife she'd been using to cut her food had caught his eye. Snatching it up after staring at it unseeingly for what seemed like hours, he'd torn at his arm in a sudden frenzy of near-mindless grief. He'd been lucky that Kallen had knocked on the door when she did, or he'd have bled out then and there.

The fourth is almost a year older. The day he'd killed his first love twice over. Euphemia, sweet delicate loving Euphemia. He'd killed her with his Geass hours before he'd killed her with a bullet, killed her as she tried to fix things, tried to end his rebellion so that she could once again spend time with her beloved elder brother, back from the dead. That was all she'd wanted, to sit with him under a tree and talk as they'd done oh so preciously rarely as children. And he'd taken that away, killed her with his Geass as surely as if he'd slit her throat. He'd denied her dreams, denied her love, and for that he now bore a mark on his arm that even death would not erase.

The fifth is older still. The day C.C. had killed her previous contractor, Mao. She'd raised him, loved him and he'd loved her, and she'd had to shoot him to end his torment. That night, Lelouch had realised he could never tell her how he truly felt, never let her see what dwelt in his heart. He'd also fallen in love with her, but to protect her he could not tell her. He didn't know back then how it would end, with his death – had he, perhaps he would have decided differently. But the choice had been made, to protect her from ever having to kill him as well: he'd keep his feelings for her secret, never letting her know just how much she meant to him, just how much he'd come to love her, his immortal witch. This scar is the smallest; it is the only one born out of selfish pain and selfish hurt.

The sixth and last is the oldest, the first to mar his skin. The day he first became Zero, the day he first truly lied to Nunnally. He'd sworn to her, only that morning, not to lie to her. He'd started upon the path that had led to this day to create a world without lies, for her. And he'd inaugurated it with a lie, to the one person who mattered most in his life, brought secrets in to lie between them. That night the guilt and pain had clawed at him, kept him awake and crying dry tears for that he'd have to lie to her, keep secrets from her, every second of his life from now on, so that she'd never know and suffer for what he'd done, what he'd go on to do for her. He'd marked himself that night, given himself a reminder beyond everything else that he was first and foremost a liar. It stretches almost halfway round his arm, even after almost two years still deep red and tender to touch.

As his fingers pass lower and find only smooth skin, he breathes deeply, calming from his panic. All these scars, all the pain and anguish and sorrow, they all exist now in another life. Though he still walks and breathes, he is dead as surely as if the blade he'd given to Suzaku was now in his chest. Standing from the bed, silk sheets whispering silently to the ground, he reaches a hand and rings the bell to summon his valets. His sufferings and sorrows had defined him, had made him; now they have played their last part in the life of Lelouch vi Britannia. And as with all the pieces in his life that had served their purpose and no longer mattered, he casts them aside along with his doubts and fears. As the doors open and light fills the room, the Demon Emperor smiles and prepares to meet his death.

* * *

Lyrics are from Antemortem, by Cain's Offering.

watch?v=4XFECvWQ5ks

 ** _This fic has the Magery Seal Of Approval!_**

If you don't know Magery, he is the King of Code Geass Hurt/Comfort and Angst fics. Go check his work out – it will hit you in the feels harder than anything you've ever felt before. Infinitely better than this, that's for sure.

Keep an eye out; more chapters are coming, one for each scar.


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